


a matter of curious disparity

by SongOfMarbule



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Blood Drinking, Blood and Injury, M/M, Vampire Prompto Argentum
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-05
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:00:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27887191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SongOfMarbule/pseuds/SongOfMarbule
Summary: In an era where the nights grow ever longer and daemons with a taste for human blood roam the streets, Ignis, worried for his friend, decides to investigate when Prompto makes his presence scarce for ten days. When he meets with him at last, what he discovers isn't entirely what he had expected; rather, it was what he had silently hoped wouldn't be...
Relationships: Prompto Argentum/Ignis Scientia
Comments: 9
Kudos: 45





	a matter of curious disparity

**Author's Note:**

  * For [viiixel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/viiixel/gifts).



> Sooo here's a fun little story for Drea, who wanted to see vampire!Prompto Promnis! Thanks again, and I hope you enjoy it!! <3
> 
> Special thanks to Teneniel for editing 💜

No one had seen nor heard from Prompto Argentum for over seven days.

Normally, this type of behavior was no cause for concern - sometimes, the chipper, personified ray of sunlight was prone to disappearing for short periods of time, whether in an attempt to focus on a personal project he wanted to complete, or just because he needed to ‘chill’ and ‘vegetate’ (his words) for awhile. But in _these_ current conditions, where the light of day grew more scarce as the months went on, it was enough to raise a red flag or three. After having each call go to voicemail and seeing yet another text message sit idle to no response on his phone screen, one Ignis Scientia had suited up and set out on the dark Insomnian streets to investigate, unable to quell the worry in the pit of his stomach.

Ignis knew he was properly equipped, should an _event_ happen to occur while he ventured beyond the safety of his home, but there was still brooding concern in the back of his mind that dared to whisper, _what if?_ It was no secret that a state of emergency had been issued for the city, what with the strictly enforced night time curfews and limited travel allowances even during the day, but Ignis had been given special privileges.

He and the many others who were associated with the Lucis Caelum family were exempt from the recent safety regulations, on one condition: they were to provide support to civilians if necessary, and, when safe to do so, donate blood to the ever-expanding banks that were becoming commonplace as of late. Ignis had donated his own fair share, time and body willing; after all, with daemon attacks on the rise, the demand to administer blood transfusions escalated, and he wanted to ensure that he could perform his civic duty when able. 

And when it came to the matter of Prompto---

“He’s fine,” Noctis had insisted the previous day with a wave of his hand. “He probably just forgot to charge his phone.”

“For an entire week?” Ignis had replied.

“What can I say? The guy’s a scatterbrain. It wouldn’t be the first time it’s happened.”

“Hmn.”

“Watch. He’ll show up at Crownsguard training tomorrow, bright and early, all refreshed and full of that bursting energy you know and love.”

Ignis flinched at that. “Right.”

He knew Noctis was likely correct - Prompto _was_ unpredictable, sometimes. The young man never did stick to a schedule, or any sort of agenda - he simply _was_ , and acted as such. Perhaps that was why a gentle fondness for him had grown within Ignis these last few months - Prompto was an enigma of sorts, unlike anyone he had ever met before. Even catching a mere glimpse of his warm, blooming smile from the corner of his eye was enough to brighten Ignis’ mornings, and he was ever grateful when they would cross paths by sheer coincidence during his busier hours. He’d catch himself humming while working at his desk on those particular days, proof that somewhere along the way, the blond had managed to wriggle into the deep recesses of Ignis’ mind, thoughts of him growing more frequent as time went on.

As such, no matter how hard he tried, Ignis found it impossible to ignore the fact that no one had heard from Prompto in ten days. He went against Noctis’ calm assurances and left his home, hurrying beneath the evenly spaced beams of lamp post light that danced on the sidewalks. When he arrived, he walked right up to Prompto’s front door, rapping his leather-gloved fist against the paint-chipped wood with polite urgency.

And then he listened carefully. At first, he thought he heard a hint of movement inside the house - or maybe it was a daemon roaming the streets a few blocks from where he stood, who knew at that point - but he was determined; he wouldn’t leave, because he _knew_ Prompto was inside. He had to be. Otherwise Ignis would have to consider another explanation to his prolonged absence, and it was one he did not care to indulge further thought to.

“Prompto?” Ignis called, pounding his fist harder on the door than previous. “Prompto, are you in there?”

Nothing.

Ignis sighed. “Prompto.” He knocked again. And again. “I know you’re in there. Let me in, if you would.” He listened. “Please.”

And then, there it was. Footsteps. Slow, cautious, measured. Then, a soft _clunk_ of a lock turning, and a _click_ of the door opening in a tiny slit.

“Are you alone?”

It was Prompto’s voice. Hoarse, barely a whisper, and certainly lacking in energy. Ignis could see just the faintest hint of light, and the tips of Prompto’s fingers peeking around the wood.

“Yes,” replied Ignis.

“Great.” 

In a flash, the door opened wide, and Ignis found himself dragged in by his arm. Tripping over his own feet, he stumbled, jolting when the door slammed shut with a loud _bang_ behind him. 

“Okay, okay, like, don’t freak out, okay?” said Prompto, hurriedly. Where even _was_ he right now, anyway? “Look, I know I’ve been kind of ghosting everyone for the past week, but---”

“Ten days,” Ignis corrected. He looked around, but spotted no Prompto - his voice appeared to be coming from the next room over.

“Okay, whatever, ten days. But listen, it’s not like I had a choice.” 

Ignis sighed once more, this time from relief that he had been correct; Prompto _was_ here, and alive, presumably. He removed his shoes by the front door out of habitual courtesy before he brushed his hands along the bottom of his long jacket, taking a step forward. “Prompto, please tell me what is going on. We’ve all been worried about you.”

A lie. Well, sort of.

Around the corner from the front entrance was a small kitchen; tidy, quaint, with enough subtle Argentum flair that made it obvious who lived there. A wilted purple wildflower resided in a glossy blue vase on the counter, shriveled stray petals lain beneath it; a photography magazine of some sort coupled at its side. Prompto’s back faced Ignis, his hands propped against the cupboards for support as he leaned there. Ignis couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt for imposing on him - just observing his stance, his body language, his shallow breathing, told him all he needed to know about Prompto’s current mental - and physical - state.

“You’ve been training excessively for the past month and a half,” Ignis stated, when Prompto didn’t reply. “And yet, I couldn’t help but observe that you have yet to gain any noticeable muscle mass.”

“Uh huh,” muttered Prompto. He shifted from one foot to the other.

“Rather, you’ve…” Ignis trailed off. And right then, Prompto took that as his cue to turn around.

“I get it,” said Prompto. “I look like shit.”

And in so many words, he did.

Prompto was thin - alarmingly thin - and the bags under his eyes had darkened considerably. Ignis likely wouldn’t have noticed such a detail if it weren’t paired with pale white skin, far paler than normal - the freckles on his cheeks a mere ghostly apparition, faded, much like the spark that normally glittered in his blue-violet eyes.

Ignis’ lips parted. He would agree, but it would be rude to do so - thankfully, Prompto spoke again before he could.

“I can explain,” Prompto said. He made a sound resembling a whine in the back of his throat, hands raising so he could grip at his unstyled locks of hair. “It’s... Gods, I don’t even know where to start. Everything’s been so fucked up, and I had no idea what to even _do_ , and---”

“Slow down,” eased Ignis. “Come. Shall we go sit on the couch together, get comfortable? Take a deep, slow breath, Prompto.”

Prompto stared at Ignis, their eyes meeting for a fleeting moment, and Ignis felt an ache in his chest. Prompto looked like he wanted to refuse, his eyes darting to the side, but then he gave a small nod, stepping past Ignis to lead the way to the living room.

“I’m just glad it’s you of all people here,” Prompto admitted. “I don’t think anyone else would believe me. I mean, there’s no guarantee you’ll believe me either, but---”

“Whatever it may be, I know you would have no reason to lie,” said Ignis. “I promise you, I will listen and withhold any impressions until you are finished.”

“Thanks, Ignis.”

Now seated on the couch, Prompto was a considerable distance away from Ignis - he fidgeted, foot tapping on the floor like button presses in an arcade. Ignis crossed his legs, hands placed on his knee, and waited for Prompto to begin. 

He waited for quite awhile; long enough to count the number of video game cases that lined the shelf beside Prompto’s television. When Prompto spoke at last, it was slow, hushed, like he was spilling the grand secrets of ancient lore.

“So, it was… maybe about… two months ago,” Prompto began. He leaned back against the couch, expelling a puff of breath. “I couldn’t sleep one night. I dunno, maybe I was having another random bout of insomnia, or maybe my stomach decided to take revenge for my not-so-great dinner choices. Point is: I was awake, I tossed and turned for hours until I couldn’t take it anymore. I had to get out and go for a walk, get some fresh air.”

“Prompto,” Ignis said, voice full of concern.

Prompto scrunched his nose. “I know, I know. I made sure to bundle up and take Quiksilver with me,” he said. “I didn’t plan on being out for _that_ long. I don’t _like_ being out on my own longer than I need to be. But there was just something about that night that didn’t feel right, something that replaced fatigue with an urge to just _go,_ almost like there was something out there calling my name. As weird as that sounds. I just _had_ to go for a walk, you dig?”

Ignis hummed.

“So anyway,” Prompto continued, “I planned to just walk two blocks from my place, down to the convenience store, even though they’re not open late anymore. The road’s decently lit, and I’ve walked down it a zillion times. I didn’t think anything of it.” Prompto paused, his fingers bunching up the fabric of his pants. “I guess I might have been more tired than I thought, because I didn’t clue in to the fact that I was being followed.”

Ignis felt his body tense. “Go on,” he encouraged.

“It was… everything happened so _fast_ . It was so... _big_ , like, way bigger than the biggest dog you can think of. It had followed me, maybe from the second I’d left my house, and waited until I was completely off-guard, and---”

“What was it, Prompto?” asked Ignis.

Prompto closed his eyes. “A daemon,” he muttered. “The only thing it could have been was a daemon. I can’t even remember what it looked like, just that it was this great big _mass_ and I was on the ground before I even had a chance to reach for my gun.”

Somewhere along the way, Ignis had shifted closer to Prompto on the couch. He reached for the other’s hand when he realized he was trembling. “What happened?” he coaxed.

Prompto took a moment to gather his thoughts, his brow furrowing. “It attacked me,” he said. “I… gods, Ignis, there was just so much blood. I didn’t even realize it was coming from me until my vision started to blur and my limbs felt like lead. My neck, it… it was all gushing from my neck. And then, all I remember was... darkness.”

Ignis didn’t reply.

Prompto took a shaky breath. “I was so sure I had died. Like, how could I not, really? I mean, a freaking _daemon_ attacked me. It ripped my damn throat open. I was so sure of it. But then… I woke up.”

Ignis squeezed his hand. “And then what happened?”

“I was completely out of it. I had no memory of what had happened. I had no idea where I even _was_ . I figured I was on cement, in an alleyway somewhere, and there was blood all over me. It was sticky. It was wet. It smelled. It smelled _so bad_ . It was dark. I felt just… _weird,_ like I was completely aware of every single bone in my body, and my vision was being filtered through some sort of weird lens.

“So anyway, I managed to get to my feet. I fell down, of course, because my legs were like putty. But then I got back up again, and I somehow, like, I _really_ don’t know how, managed to walk myself all the way back home. I felt like I was in some kind of trance, dude. I can’t even describe it. I just… everything was so sluggish, like a dying battery. I ended up throwing my blood-soaked clothes in the garbage can, shuffled into the bathroom, took a shower, and then threw myself into bed. Didn’t even bother drying myself off. I just _passed the hell out_.”

“And what of your injuries?” asked Ignis.

“I’m getting to it,” Prompto tutted. “The next morning, I woke up. I felt hella groggy still, but figured hey, that’s nothing out of the ordinary, so whatever, right? I just assumed I had some sort of wild vivid dream or something the night before, and didn’t think anything of it. I didn’t even know that things were totally fricked up until I went to the bathroom to do my morning whizz, and saw in the mirror that my neck had a half-open gash in it.

“Like, it was clearly cut open, but it was like… only partially? It was like a clean straight line across my neck,” Prompto took a moment to demonstrate, tracing his fingertips along his Adam’s apple. “Half of it looked like a newly-healed scar, and the other half of it was like, still open, but there was no blood coming out of it. I poked it a bunch and it didn’t even hurt. I sort of passed out after that, cuz it was pretty gross? Bonked my head against the bathroom sink and everything… heh.” He rubbed at his scalp for emphasis.

“Anyway. When I came to again, I started freaking out. I grabbed my phone and dialed Noct, but hung up right away. I mean, what the hell was I supposed to say? ‘Hey man, so I broke curfew for literally no reason and a daemon tore my throat open, but hey, it’s cool! I lived!’? No. He wouldn’t have believed me, so there was no point.” Prompto sighed, throwing his hands up in resignation. “Thankfully it happened to be the weekend, so I just... became a hermit and stayed in bed. I really didn’t know what had happened to me. I was pretty damn scared.”

“I’m so sorry, Prompto,” Ignis said. He had no idea what to make of this grim and confusing tale, but he refrained from asking more questions, sensing Prompto wasn’t done speaking.

“A few hours after that, I noticed that my neck had healed completely. And the next day, it was like nothing had even happened at all. No scar, no nothing.” He lifted his head again, proving his point; the skin on his neck was pristine, not a scratch on it. “Had I hallucinated the whole thing? Maybe. Had my lack of sleep finally started to take its toll on me? Could have. But then came what I call the _twitches_.”

Ignis blinked. “The what?” he asked.

“The twitches,” Prompto said again. He clenched his jaw, clearly struggling to put it all in sensical words. “Okay, so they’re not literally _twitches_ , like physically. More like… in my head? I started feeling little zaps, seconds long aches in my temples. And then it would be followed by that weird sensation I mentioned before, like, the whole _being aware of every bone in my body_ thing. And then, this bit was new: I’d be hyper-aware of everything around me. Like, everything seemed so much clearer all of a sudden? Like I could see all these little details on things like, wood, or the carpet, that I never noticed before. And then, ugh. The _sounds_ . I was suddenly very aware of every single appliance in the kitchen giving off a droning _hum_ . It drove me absolutely _nuts_. It took awhile for me to get used to it all, because it didn’t go away. I felt, like. Enhanced. Or something.”

“Prompto,” Ignis warned. “What you are describing to me sounds an awful lot like---”

“Yeah, I know.” Prompto heaved a deep sigh. “I know. I didn’t believe it myself, until finally, the _hunger_ came.”

Ignis was speechless.

“I finally accepted that something fucked up had happened to me when I couldn’t even keep water down. It was like everything that used to be edible suddenly became very _not_ edible. I couldn’t eat anything. I couldn’t drink anything. It was like trying to put a slightly crumpled bill into a vending machine. My stomach was just like, _DO NOT WANT_ , in huge red letters on a billboard.”

Ignis had heard of similar symptoms before, once the medical reports from the local hospitals began to roll in. He knew what would happen to those who were unfortunate enough to encounter a daemon - it either resulted in an emergency blood transfusion, or death. And neither of those had happened to Prompto; he did not go to the hospital, nor had he died. Which meant---

“You’re a daemon,” Ignis stated. 

Prompto shrugged. “If that’s what you want to call it,” he murmured. He sunk on the couch a bit, back sliding down the cushion behind him as he slouched. “I didn’t want to admit it. I didn’t want to acknowledge it. So I just. Ignored it. The hunger, I mean. It was really annoying. Trying to seem ‘normal’ was like an impossible task. I went to Crownsguard training like I was supposed to the next week, and everything seemed to be fine, other than I felt, like, extra on edge. It was like my anxiety just _spiked_ , like it took what I always have and multiplied it by ten. Training, though, seemed to help keep my mind off of it enough to function, kind of. No one said anything that made me think they noticed something was up, so I called it a job well done and just, continued on doing the same thing every day.”

“Actually, I noticed,” said Ignis. “I just felt that it would be rude to bring up. But believe me, I made sure to keep a close eye on you whenever we were in the vicinity of one another. I could tell there was something _off_ , about you. Like you were overcompensating for something, but I wasn’t sure what.”

Prompto snorted. “Ya think?”

“I never would have in a million years thought that you…” Ignis trailed off. He moved his hand away from Prompto’s so he could remove his glasses, rubbing away a smudge on his sleeve. “So... this has been going on for some time, now.”

“Yeah,” Prompto replied. “It has.”

“And what of the last ten days?” asked Ignis.

Prompto chewed on his lip. He looked away, clearly perturbed by the question. “What?”

“I said, what of the last ten days?” repeated Ignis. “You have not left your house, nor contacted anyone. Did something else happen?”

Prompto picked at his fingernail. “Last time I was at Crownsguard training…” he started, quieting as he continued on. “Someone got socked right in the face. He got a nosebleed. _Really_ bad. And… I wasn’t even near him, like, I was on the complete opposite side of the gym, and… I got one of those _twitches_ , only this time it was followed by being hyper-aware of every single smell in that room, but all I could focus on was one in particular.” 

Ignis’ breath caught in his throat.

“Yeah, you guessed it,” Prompto muttered. “I wanted to _eat him_ . Like. Straight up. It took every single fibre of my being to _not_ make a beeline for the guy, and like…” He groaned, moving his hands over his face. “I don’t even want to say it out loud.”

“You don’t have to,” said Ignis. “So what, then? You went home, and haven’t left your house since?”

“Pretty much.” Prompto’s fingers dragged down his face. “Like, there’s no denying it. I feel like shit. I look like shit. It sounds totally nuts, but I swear I can see the blood rushing through people’s veins if I stare at them long enough. The only thing I can think of to stop it is to just... I… I need to drink blood. It’s the only thing my body wants, my body _needs_ . I just, _know_ that if I give in and do it, I’ll probably feel a hell of a lot better, but _how can I?_ It’s disgusting. It’s scary, how I felt back in that gym. Like, if I had acted on that urge, what would have happened?’ His expression twisted. “Would I have killed him? Would I have killed everyone in that room? If I’d stuck around and saw Noct like I was supposed to after training, would I have hurt him, too?”

“You wouldn’t have,” said Ignis. “I know you wouldn’t hurt him, Prompto. Nor anyone, for that matter.”

“No, Ignis, you don’t get it,” Prompto hissed. “It was like I wasn’t myself anymore. I felt like I had totally peaced out, and all that was left in my head was the _hunger_. I would have done anything and everything at that point to make that feeling go away.”

“But you didn’t,” insisted Ignis. He slowly reached toward Prompto, taking his wrists and lowering his hands away from his face. “You didn’t hurt anyone. You have more control over yourself than you think you do.”

“Uh huh, sure. But for how long?” Prompto’s eyes narrowed, staring at Ignis as if he were challenging him to a duel. “How long does this ‘control’ last? How long until I go bonkers and just kill everything around me? How long until---”

“You _won’t_ ,” Ignis said, stern yet calm. “Believe me, Prompto. You are not one of those monsters. We will find a way to control these… _urges_ , of yours, and manage your condition. You will be able to live a life close to normal, but it will take time to adjust.”

“But _how_?” asked Prompto. 

Ignis took a moment to reflect, the wheels in his mind turning. “I have an idea.”

Prompto watched as Ignis shifted on the couch, and quickly, he said, “Dude, if you’re gonna do what I think you’re about to do, forget it.”

Ignis cocked an eyebrow. “You think I would be so barbaric as to unbuckle my glove, push up my sleeve and offer you my wrist to nibble on? Really, now.”

Prompto rolled his eyes. “Then what’s the plan, Poindexter?”

Ignis couldn’t help but chuckle. He produced his cellphone from his pocket, tapping at the screen a few times. “I’m going to order a special delivery,” he said, placing the phone to his ear.

✂✂✂✂✂✂✂✂✂✂✂✂✂

“No,” said Prompto.

“And why not?” Ignis’ tone was light, amused, even.

“Because.”

“Because why?”

“Uh, because this is just as ‘barbaric’ as you wiggling your wrist in front of me like a doggie treat?”

“If you have a better idea, Prompto, please, I do insist you inform me. I would love to hear it.”

Prompto made a frustrated noise. “I don’t.”

“Then?”

On the table in front of the pair sat a small blue and white cooler, lid hanging open like a picnic basket. Inside, placed neatly beside one another, were two packets of ruby-red blood, delivered from the blood bank Ignis made his donations to. With his _connections_ , Ignis was able to make a simple request with no questions asked, retrieving the blood that he himself had donated in the past month. 

“No,” Prompto said again.

Ignis sighed heavily. “If this _works---_ ”

“ _No._ ”

“Prompto. You won’t be able to ignore those ‘urges’ forever.”

“Sure I can.”

“They are only going to get worse and worse.”

“Maybe, but I can handle it.”

“Would you rather be like those vampires in those B-movies you and Noct used to watch all the time? Finally break down and capture rats and various other vermin off the street, feed from those?”

“No, of course not, but that doesn’t mean that I’m gonna pop a straw into one of these things and drink it like a Capri Sun.”

“And why not?”

“Because…”

“Because?”

Prompto turned around, facing away from Ignis. “It’s gross, and embarrassing,” he admitted.

“I know, Prompto.” Ignis placed his hand on Prompto’s shoulder, rubbing it with his palm. “But if this works, you will no longer risk being a potential danger to yourself or others. You may very well feel just as you did before your accident.”

Ignis felt Prompto’s muscles tense beneath his fingers. “And if I don’t?” Prompto said softly. “What then?”

“Then we will take another path, and try something else.”

Prompto stood there for a moment; time passed quietly for a few minutes. Ignis waited, and said nothing while Prompto deliberated over accepting his new reality.

At last, he spoke, with finality, “Okay. Let’s give it a go.”

Ignis smiled. “Very well.”

When Prompto turned and offered Ignis the faintest hint of a smile, Ignis swore he caught a glimpse of a sharp tooth peek out from behind his lip; but perhaps it was just his imagination.

✂✂✂✂✂✂✂✂✂✂✂✂✂

The following week, Prompto finally attended his Crownsguard training sessions once more. Passing off his brief absence as a bout of a nasty flu, no one batted an eye to his explanation, and life went on as normal, just as Ignis had predicted. To say his blood packet idea was a resounding success was an understatement - the moment the blood hit Prompto’s tongue, it was as if he came back to life, the warmth and light seeping back into his face and eyes almost instantly. He didn’t even need to ingest _that_ much to feel like his normal self again. And in the days that followed, Prompto reported to Ignis with his findings, making a journal, of sorts, to record everything he experienced. Ignis looked forward to their daily phone conversations, moving to texts every so often when Ignis had to return to his normal duties. He wondered, selfishly, if Prompto’s predicament had been a blessing in disguise, as it seemed to have brought the two closer together. Prompto’s spirits lifted substantially at the discovery of his ‘cure’, and he was back to the smiling ray of sunlight that Ignis had grown to love in no time again.

 _To love_.

Ah, and then there was Ignis’ ‘condition’. But more importantly, there was the issue of how, and when, to inform the others of Prompto’s… new life changes.

 _One day at a time_ , he’d told Prompto. And he intended to keep his secret for as long as Prompto needed it to be one.

Ignis finished up work that afternoon to find his phone blown up with various text messages from a certain someone.

Prompto (1:22 PM): dude so no kidding i swear i can lift like twice the amount of weights i could before  
Prompto (1:22 PM): gonna get SWOLE AS HECK 💪💪💪  
Prompto (1:23 PM): ill be like the hulk, except with more clothes and hopefully not green i guess  
Prompto (1:23 PM): the hulk always kind of reminded me of that one other green dude  
Prompto (1:24 PM): you know, the one on my bag of frozen peas  
Prompto (1:24 PM): hohoho something-or-other  
Prompto (1:25 PM): you know what im talking about lol  
Prompto (1:28 PM): sorry for the spam. Can you tell im bored  
Prompto (1:28 PM): actually im not really bored, im just filled with SO MUCH ENERGY that i can hardly stay still  
Prompto (1:30 PM): hey, we’re still on tonight, right?  
Prompto (1:30 PM): if you end up changing your mind thats totally cool tho  
Prompto (1:31 PM): i wont mind  
Prompto (1:31 PM): well i mean thats not true. I will mind a bit  
Prompto (1:35 PM): but not because im mad!!!  
Prompto (1:35 PM): but because i miss your face  
Prompto (1:39 PM): lol! No hulk smashes from me, promise!!!  
Prompto (1:40 PM): ttyl 😎🙈

Ignis laughed out loud.

Perhaps, nervous internal debates aside, he hadn’t made a mistake when he, on a complete whim, invited Prompto over to his place for the evening after all.

Ignis (5:00 PM): I shall see you soon.

When Ignis felt his phone buzz in his hand one last time, his breath caught in his throat, his heart taking a small leap.

Prompto (5:01 PM): i can’t wait to see you  
Prompto (5:02 PM): like seriously. been looking forward to this all week  
Prompto (5:02 PM): anyway… ill be there soon!!!  
Prompto (5:03 PM): 💗

✂✂✂✂✂✂✂✂✂✂✂✂✂

Dinner had gone swimmingly - far better than Ignis could have ever predicted. Even if Prompto couldn’t indulge in the gourmet food Ignis had made for himself that evening, it didn’t mean that Prompto was left hungry - Ignis warmed a packet of blood into one of his finest wine glasses, and served a small bowl of painstakingly crafted _Sanguinaccio dolce,_ a sweet dessert whose base was made from pig’s blood. To his delight, Prompto was able to eat it despite the additional non-hemoglobin ingredients, and sang its praises as if he had been blessed by the food gods themselves (and to a ‘vampire’, perhaps he had been). Even more delightful were the wanton glances and perhaps not so subtle flirtations occurring back and forth across the table - a quiet possibility that maybe, just _maybe_ , Prompto felt the same way Ignis did for him.

But that wasn’t the end of Ignis’ culinary plans for the evening, no - he had just one more planned course for his guest, but when offered, he was met with a very stern:

“No.”

“And why not?” asked Ignis.

“Because!”

“Because why?”

“You know why.”

“Regale me.”

Prompto sighed. He tapped his socked foot against Ignis’ hardwood flooring, facing away from him. “Do I really have to say it?”

“Yes,” said Ignis.

“You are the worst.”

“And you are charming.”

Ignis sat on his velvet couch parallel to where Prompto stood, watching him with a curious gaze. He knew what he had offered had been sudden, and maybe foolish, but at the same time---

“Listen,” Prompto said, stepping toward him. “I’ve watched enough vampire movies to know what happens when a vampire drinks blood directly from a living person for the first time.”

“You’re not a vampire,” said Ignis, matter-of-factly.

“Har, har,” Prompto drawled. “I’m pretty damn close, though. And, like. I don’t know, Ignis.”

“Surely it wouldn’t hurt to just _try_ , a little bit.”

“But _why,_ though?” wailed Prompto. “I’m doing just fine with my cherry juice boxes.”

“You and I both know that while it ‘does the job’, so to speak, it likely cannot compare to the ‘real’ thing,” said Ignis. He studied Prompto; the clench of his jaw, the way he would poke his tongue against the tips of his newly sharper-than-normal canines. Despite Prompto’s reservations, Ignis could see a glimmer of curiosity begin to flourish within him. “What if ingesting it fresh offered more benefits to your physical condition? What if there was a chance that, for example, having a small sip would be enough to satiate you for an entire week, no, _weeks_ , even, rather than just four days?”

Prompto tapped his foot, then stood completely still. “Uh huh, yeah, and what if I end up hurting you?” he asked, his expression turning to a frown. “I’d never forgive myself, Ignis.”

“You won’t,” said Ignis.

“And how do you know that?” Prompto challenged. “We’re still learning about this… this whole… _thing_. There’s probably tons we don’t know about my ‘condition’ yet. It’s a big question mark, so. How can you possibly say with confidence that I won’t hurt you?”

“You are correct; I can’t say it with utmost certainty, but,” Ignis replied, shifting his position on the couch. He moved a hand to his shirt collar, flicking open the top button. “I trust you, Prompto.”

Ignis felt Prompto’s eyes on him right then, and it made him shiver, just a little.

“Okay, sure, so maybe I _won’t_ hurt you,” Prompto muttered. Crossing his arms over his chest, he quickly looked away from Ignis again. “But what if something else happens?”

“Like what?” asked Ignis.

“Like…” Prompto moved his wrist in air circles. “That other thing that happens in movies.”

Curious, Ignis pressed on. “Which is…?”

Prompto’s cheeks warmed. “It might, uh.” He shifted from one foot to the other. “Turn me on? I guess?”

This time, Ignis’ cheeks warmed. “I see.”

“So, like. Yeah.” Prompto exhaled. He swept a tuft of hair behind his ear. “This is probably a bad idea.”

The longer Ignis gazed at Prompto, the stronger the wave of bravery that took hold of him. He went quiet, choosing his words carefully before speaking again. “I’m not so sure about that.”

Their eyes met, and it was like the fire in his heart burned brighter, more fervent. Something unspoken had happened between them, in that moment; something quiet, warm, understanding, passionate. 

“All right,” Prompto whispered. There was a flicker of nervous energy in his eyes, but the eager way he stepped over to the couch betrayed them. “I trust you too, Ignis.”

Closing his eyes, Ignis felt the added weight of another person lower onto his lap, and when his arms encircled him, Ignis couldn’t help but revel in how surprisingly _warm_ Prompto felt. He took a slow, calming breath, and with it, breathed in Prompto; his very essence, his very being; everything that he was, and everything he may become.

_A blessing in disguise, indeed._

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me here:
> 
> My Twitters:  
> [moonkissedstars (FFXV)](https://twitter.com/moonkissedstars)  
> [SongOfMarbule (main)](https://twitter.com/SongOfMarbule)
> 
> My Tumblrs:  
> [caseofthestolenspecs (FFXV)](http://caseofthestolenspecs.tumblr.com)  
> [saturnvalleycoffee (Misc/main)](http://saturnvalleycoffee.tumblr.com)


End file.
